And What If I Did?
by analogwatch
Summary: Harry's got feelings for Hermione and vice versa, but it appears that Draco may also have feelings for Harry...
1. Damage sustained, cap'n!

This isn't the first HP fanfic I've ever written, but it is the first one I've been brave enough to try to type up and publish… that and it's been a long time since I've uploaded any fics… I got a boyfriend and lost him all in that nice span of lack-of-updating time.  
  
Anyhow… I don't own Harry Potter, Quidditch, or anything else mentioned in this fic… so don't sue me, please. I still don't have a job, anyway.  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
And What if I Did?  
  
"Please be careful…" Hermione mumbled, straightening Harry's Quidditch robes even though she knew they'd be rumpled and stained again when the game was finished.  
  
  
  
Harry smiled lopsidedly. "As careful as I can be playing against Slytherin. You'll be watching, right?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "Naturally, Harry! Why wouldn't I be?"  
  
"You wouldn't be if, say, you wanted to study or something." Harry grinned fully this time, backing up a step as Hermione swatted playfully at him.  
  
"You should get going, Harry." Hermione stepped forward, hugging Harry tightly. "The team will be waiting for you."  
  
Harry nodded quickly as he hugged her back, and she turned to leave with a small wave. He walked swiftly in to the Gryffindor locker room, where Ron and the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch players were waiting.  
  
"There you are!" Ron cried in exasperation. "I was waiting for you practically forever! Hurry, we've got to outline the game plan before the game."  
  
Harry and Ron were co-captains of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Even though this was only Ron's second year on the team (even though he was a sixth-year student), he knew the Quidditch rules inside and out, making him an ideal captain. Harry was captain because after being on the team for five previous years, he was extremely talented, brought a lot of unity to the team, and was a natural-born leader. They outlined the plays quickly, and as they were leaving, Ron smirked at Harry.  
  
"Talking to your girlfriend, then?"  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. "Hermione and I are not going out, Ron, and you know it."  
  
"… Yet. You aren't going out yet." Ron grinned as he mounted his broomstick and waited for Madam Hooch's whistle.  
  
The Slytherins glared at the Gryffindors, Malfoy's eyes easily reflecting the most hate. Also a sixth-year, he wasn't captain – yet, anyway. His father would probably see to that for his seventh year.  
  
"Are you ready to choke, Potter?" He spat.  
  
"Hardly, Malfoy. I think that's best asked of you." Harry calmly stated, kicking forcefully off the ground as Madam Hooch's whistle cut sharply through the air. His eyes scanned the skies quickly, searching for any sign of that lone golden ball while still trying to keep out of the way of any Bludgers.  
  
Malfoy shot past him as if he was on fire, causing a burst of panic in his chest. In all of his experience, he had not gone through a game without catching the Golden Snitch – it just wasn't something he did. He scanned the sky in front of Malfoy, tailing close behind. His Firebolt was easily faster than Malfoy's Nimbus 2001, but he wanted to make sure that Malfoy wasn't leading him on. A flash of gold to his left caught his eye and he veered off, trying to ignore the cheers coming from the Slytherin side. They were leading, ten to zero.  
  
Faster, faster Harry pushed the Firebolt, chasing the Snitch as if his life depended on it. "Come on, please, just a little faster…" Harry pleaded with it, gripping the pole so tightly he could feel his fingers going numb. As if it heard his plea, the broom sped up a little. Harry reached his left arm out…  
  
Slytherin's side burst into cheers again. Now the score was twenty to zero, Slytherin. Harry grew pale with determination as he reached ever further. He felt his fingers close onto the ball and he clenched his hand into a fist quickly, keeping the Snitch in his grip. Suddenly, though, the wind was knocked out of him. He saw his broom still hovering in the air before Malfoy's enraged face came into his vision. It seemed that Malfoy had leapt off of his broom and tackled Harry off of his.  
  
"Damn it, Potter!" He screamed. "You stole the glory again! You always steal the glory!" With quite a bit of difficulty, Malfoy closed his hands around Harry's throat.  
  
Harry strained to get Malfoy off of him, pulling furiously at Malfoy's hands with his own right hand. "G…. Get off… Malfoy…!" His left hand had dropped below him with his lack of concentration. He hit the ground, Malfoy hit him, and his left arm snapped with a sickening 'crunch' as it buckled beneath him.  
  
Malfoy himself paled with the disgusting sound of the injury, and he rolled off of Harry. He stood up, brushing off his robes, completely unscathed. He really hadn't intended to hurt Harry…   
  
"Get out of my way, get out of my way!" Madam Hooch cried, shoving through the crowd to Harry, who was quite white from the pain, staring blankly into the sky with his left arm bent beneath him at an extremely unnatural angle. His left fist was sticking from under his right side, still clenched onto the Snitch. "Oh, dear…" She gasped, turned and ran again to fetch Madam Pomfrey.  
  
Harry was drifting in and out of consciousness, and nobody really cared anymore about how Gryffindor had come back to win the game. The crowd had left the stands, with the Slytherins going back to the castle, and everyone else trying to get a view of Harry.  
  
"Look at his arm!"  
  
"Is he going to be all right?"  
  
"Keep away, give him air!" Madam Pomfrey cried, running as quickly as she could down to the Quidditch pitch. She herself blanched with the severity of Harry's injury, and everyone's own faces grew grim with the realization that if Madam Pomfrey could look disturbed at an injury, it had to be an extremely horrific injury.  
  
"… Will he be all right, Madam Pomfrey?" Colin Creevey, a fifth-year, quietly asked, trying to ignore the fact that Harry was quietly moaning with the pain and seemed to be fighting hard to keep conscious. Colin, thankfully, had abandoned the practice of continually photographing Harry; it was doubtful that anyone would have allowed him to do so this time.  
  
Madam Pomfrey looked at him, Ron, and two of the other male Gryffindor Quidditch players. "Please lift him gently – watch out for that left arm!" She snapped at Ron, who had caused Harry to give a short scream before finally passing out completely. "Take him to the infirmary. I'll be right behind you." She glanced at his fist, which was still holding the Snitch, and decided it would probably be best to pry that out up in the infirmary after his arm had been set and repaired.  
  
The four boys gingerly lifted Harry's limp body and carried it carefully up to the castle. The crowd continued to mill about, preventing Hermione from following the small group until they were already up and inside.  
  
"Please be all right, Harry... please." Hermione whispered, trying not to cry in front of the entire crowd. 


	2. Hormones, ATTACK!

This isn't the first HP fanfic I've ever written, but it is the first one I've been brave enough to try to type up and publish… that and it's been a long time since I've uploaded any fics… I got a boyfriend and lost him all in that nice span of lack-of-updating time.  
  
Anyhow… I don't own Harry Potter, Quidditch, or anything else mentioned in this fic… so don't sue me, please. I still don't have a job, anyway.  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
And What If I Did?  
  
Harry winced, coming to in the infirmary. He could hear Madam Pomfrey bustling a few beds away, but had no interest in making her aware of his awakening. He moved his left arm with difficulty, realizing that his arm was very stiff.  
  
"Oh, you've woken up!" Hermione called from a chair next to his bed.  
  
"You've been here all night?" Harry asked, incredulous.  
  
Hermione nodded. "I mean, I've slept here in this chair, but yes, I've been here all night. I wanted to make sure you'd be all right."  
  
Harry shook his head. "It was only a broken arm, Hermione!" He noticed her slightly hurt look and backtracked quickly. "Don't get me wrong, Hermione, I really appreciate you coming in here and watching me all night… You just didn't need to."  
  
Hermione shrugged. "I had nothing better to do, really. Madam Pomfrey told me to tell you that you're free to go when you wake up."  
  
"Thanks." Harry mumbled, tossing aside the blankets. "Hey, Hermione… do you think you could, um, leave for a sec? I've got to change…"  
  
"Oh!" Hermione, who hadn't really been paying attention, said after a moment. "Sorry." She got up and moved away, closing the curtain behind her.  
  
Harry changed clothes swiftly, pulling the curtain open again. "Bloody hell, my arm is stiff…" he complained, trying to regain the full range of movement into his left wrist again.  
  
"Your arm was broken in three places, Harry, and the shoulder was dislocated." Hermione tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "It was horrific… your arm was bent behind you and sticking out from behind your right side…" She shuddered as the image came back to her.  
  
Harry could vaguely remember what happened after Malfoy had knocked him from his broom. He remembered falling to the ground and feeling quite a few snaps and crunches… and then he remembered snippets of conversation and feeling his arm where it shouldn't be... "Yes, Hermione…. I remember feeling that."  
  
"Why would Malfoy tackle you from the broom, though? That's almost a death wish on his part." Hermione pondered. "He could have killed himself."  
  
Harry shrugged and screwed up his eyes, trying to remember what Malfoy had said. "He'd accused me of stealing the glory again or something."  
  
"Why would Malfoy care?" Hermione stared at Harry questioningly. "He's rich; he's got a father that pushes him to great aspirations... I just don't get it."  
  
"Neither do I." Harry pushed open the door to the infirmary to find Ron standing right outside, reaching for the doorknob. "Oh, hello, Ron."  
  
"Hey, Harry. I was coming to check if you were okay but you apparently are. Madam Pomfrey had us carry you up here and then immediately ushered us out. Hermione happened to get in here when she was in a better mood, so she got lucky." Ron grinned.  
  
Hermione smiled back at Ron. "Aren't you glad he's okay?"  
  
Ron's grin turned to Harry, and he nodded. "Of course I'm glad, he's my best friend!" Ron planted his hands on his hips jokingly. "As my other best friend, I would have thought you would have known that!" He rolled his eyes sarcastically.  
  
Harry shook his head. "It's time for breakfast, isn't it? I'm starving."  
  
****  
  
"So, Harry, how much do you actually remember from yesterday?" Ron asked from between mouthfuls.  
  
"I remember flying and catching the Snitch, then falling with Malfoy in my face, and falling, and then crunches. I don't remember much after that." Harry mumbled, reaching for another slice of toast.  
  
Hermione shook her head, putting her spoon down in her cereal. "I still don't understand why Malfoy would want to do that to you. What does he care about you 'stealing the glory'?" Hermione looked genuinely baffled.  
  
"All I know is that Malfoy is upset over it, and we'll have to deal with his wrath... we've got Potions first today." Harry sighed, placing the crust from his toast onto his plate.  
  
Ron groaned. "I hate Potions... I'm sorry. Honestly, I'm glad I didn't get an Outstanding on my O.W.L. for that class. I'm also glad I don't have to take Divination again." Harry joined him in a shudder. "I hated that class."  
  
"You should have dropped it like I did," Hermione noted.  
  
Harry shrugged. "At any rate, Hermione and I have got to go. Snape'll throw a fit if we're late." He pushed his plate forward and stood up to leave, throwing his book bag over his shoulder. Hermione joined him quickly, and he waved to Ron. "See you after class."  
  
Ron nodded, standing up himself. "See you."  
  
Harry and Hermione walked together to class in silence. Harry had had quite a growth spurt and grown nearly six inches in the six months since his fifth year of classes had ended, and it suddenly dawned upon him that Hermione hadn't grown too much herself. She only came up his shoulder, which was quite different from their first year, when he had been about two inches shorter than Hermione. She, in turn, had been about an inch shorter than Ron, who had always been tall for his age (now, though, Ron towered over Harry's five-foot-eleven stature at six-foot-four). He also noted, with a small somersault of his stomach, that she'd managed to curl her hair. How long had she been doing that already without him noticing? She had stopped, turning to face him, and he also noticed how the curls swung when she stopped, and how they framed her face so beautifully... The combinations of the curls with the scowl on her face really made her look cute...  
  
"Harry, have you been listening to a word of what I've been saying?"  
  
Harry shook his head, forcing himself out of his reverie. "I'm sorry, what?"  
  
Hermione sighed. "I was saying that you'd be better off not to anger Malfoy today. The Quidditch fiasco was enough excitement for now."  
  
Harry nodded dumbly, part of his brain still wanting to wander back to his thoughts involving Hermione. "You know, Hermione, your hair looks fabulous when you curl it like that..." He blinked, not even realizing that that had come out of his mouth.  
  
Hermione looked at Harry, clearly confused. "Harry, where on earth did that come from?"  
  
"I've not a clue," Harry mumbled, adjusting his book bag as an attempt to hide his blush.  
  
Hermione simply shook her head, smiling, as the entered the classroom, taking their usual seats next to each other near the back.  
  
"Today, class, we will be making a more complex sleeping draught than you're used to..." Snape began to drone. Harry fought hard not to tune him out, and ended up doing so anyway. Snape explained the draught, and then clapped his hands together and said, "The instructions are on the board." With a wave of his hand, they appeared there. "You have an hour and fifteen minutes. Begin."   
  
Harry gathered the ingredients needed, setting up next to Hermione. "Sorry about that earlier, Hermione... I'm sure you weren't expecting it..."  
  
Hermione shrugged, pouring in the required amount of the powdered dragon's fang. "It's all right, Harry... it's perfectly normal."  
  
After this exchange, they continued in silence, and finally Harry and Hermione brought up their potions. Hermione's, naturally, was the golden amber required, but Harry's was more of a cloudy, muddy brown.  
  
"That was a nasty potion to make," Harry remarked as he packed up his cauldron and ingredients.  
  
"Not really, if you made sure you followed the directions." Hermione smiled, walking towards the door.  
  
Harry shook his head, following Hermione. "That's only because you've got more talent than I do, Hermione."  
  
Hermione laughed, leaning against the wall outside the classroom once they stepped outside. "No, Harry, and you know it. I'm just more studious than you."  
  
Harry's eyes, outside his own control, traveled up and down Hermione's body once. She'd matured quite quickly and quite beautifully... Harry was almost appalled with himself for not noticing before. She was probably thinking he was some sort of freak, all of a sudden unable to keep his eyes off of her.  
  
"Harry, are you all right?" Hermione asked, standing up again. "You're acting differently."  
  
Harry smiled again, shaking his head. "No, I'm fine, Hermione. We've got a free hour... do you think I could possibly have a word with you in.... in private?"  
  
Hermione cocked her head to the side for a moment, thinking this over. "I don't see why not..." She followed him to an empty classroom, where he shut the door behind them.  
  
"Hermione... you remember how in our fourth year, Ron and I just... kind of suddenly discovered you were a girl?" Harry bit his lip, thinking of no other way to be able to start this.  
  
"Yes, and?" Hermione looked confused, clutching an extra book to her chest.  
  
"Well... I suppose... I suppose I've matured somewhat beyond that point, Hermione... I can't ..." He trailed off, trying to find a different way to go about this. "I can't keep my eyes off of you now, Hermione. I can't think about anything else. It's like you've.... you've infected my brains or something."  
  
Hermione let out a laugh, and Harry panicked.  
  
"If you're going to make fun of me, Hermione, please, do it now," Harry pleaded. "I don't want to hear rumors about me later!"  
  
Hermione shook her head. "Is that why you kept staring at me? I was thinking that something was wrong with me or something." She dropped the book to her side, hugging Harry with one arm. "I understand what you're saying."  
  
Harry was baffled for a moment, but hugged her tightly. "What do you mean, Hermione?"  
  
"I mean that you're saying that you've got a crush on me..." Hermione hugged him tighter still, bringing up her other arm, still holding the book, to wrap about him. "... and I've got one on you, too."  
  
~~  
  
Oooooh. Betcha couldn't see that coming, could you? I hope it wasn't cheesily predictable... please review? 


End file.
